Three's a Pain
by Annadel
Summary: When it comes to watchers, Buffy considers two too many. Three are a pain.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I hold no claim toward the Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Highlander universes whatsoever. I simply love their characters and couldn't get this story out of my head.**

**Author's Note: This is a revamped version of my old story, Through the Ages. The prologue hasn't changed much, but coming chapters will be vastly different than the original.**

**The setting is at the very end of Highlander's season one and at the beginning of season two of Buffy right after _Some Assembly Required_. I know the years don't exactly match up, but let's pretend Highlander was set in the mid 90s for the purposes of this fic.**

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It was the first quiet evening since school began three weeks ago. Giles didn't know what it was about the first weeks of school that brought vampires out in droves; it was just another reason he hated the back-to-school season as much as Buffy and the others. The children had gone to The Bronze to spend the evening gyrating to the noise they called music, and he was enjoying an evening out with the Miss Calendar.

He'd taken her to the only decent restaurant in the wretched little town, and they were making their way back to his apartment. Giles caught sight of a young woman being followed across the street, and he was hit with the overwhelming sense their quiet evening was at an end. She seemed no more aware of her stalker than Jenny was of his sudden tension as she sipped the excessively sweetened and overpriced coffee she'd insisted on getting. However, Jenny was apparently more aware than she seemed. She stiffened and motioned toward the young woman when her stalker pounced.

Giles heard her call his name as he sprinted toward the two shadows fading into the dark recesses of an alley, and Jenny's footfalls sounded quietly behind him moments later as she raced to keep pace. Unfortunately, they arrived as woman's body fell. The vampire looked down at her body for a moment before raising his distorted visage to leer mockingly at his new victims, apparently reveling in a "high" obtained through his feeding.

Giles moved in front of Jenny as he retrieved a stake and cross from the inside pocket of his jacket and tossed Jenny the cross. The fledgling moved to pounce, but pulled up short, clutching his sides and stumbling back against a dumpster. Giles gaped, amazed and paralyzed, watching as the vampire screamed in pain before exploding into dust.

"What just happened?" Jenny asked. Her mocha, forgotten and dropped, rolled across the pavement.

"I have my suspicions, but I'm not sure," Giles answered. He jumped involuntarily and moved closer to Jenny, effectually blocking her body with his own, as the dead young woman sprang back to life with a gasping start.

She slowly got to her feet and dusted herself off without seeming to notice her witnesses. A grimace marred her face, and she heaved a disappointed sigh when she saw the bloodstains on her collar. Giles watched as she shook shoulder length, black curls in a familiar sort of way and could have swore he heard her mumble something about, "Bloody messy fledglings."

By then, Jenny had recovered enough from the shock of witnessing something even stranger than the usual goings on of Sunnydale enough to sputter a bit, and the sound caught the other woman's attention. She turned toward her would be saviors, looking nervous. Her posture relaxed and a slow smile graced her lips when she turned brilliant green eyes on Giles.

"Hello Rupert," she said. "It's been a long time."

"Elizabeth?"


	2. What the

Elizabeth took hold of his left hand and pushed the sleeve of his jacket back to expose his wrist. It was one of the few places on his body free of scars, and she relaxed slightly when she didn't find whatever it was she had expected to find.

"So, you are one of those watchers," she said as released his hand.

"You haven't aged a day in the past thirty years," Giles answered.

"Surely you recognize the symptoms, Rupert," Elizabeth said. Her smirk was just as he remembered, and for a moment he could almost imagine he was seventeen again.

"But you were one of us."

Elizabeth nodded. "And I wasn't the only one." She glanced toward the street where a group of giggling women went about their shopping. "We've much to discuss, but I'd rather not air dirty laundry on the street." She stepped around them and exited the alley calling, "Why don't we head to my place. You both look like you could use a drink."

Giles looked to Jenny and shrugged. "We wouldn't want to put you out," he said.

"Think nothing of it," Elisabeth answered. "It's a couple blocks down this way. I'd actually be grateful for the company. I've been a little lonely, new in town and all, you know."

Jenny caught his arm as he moved to follow, drawing his attention without halting his progress. "Are you sure about this?" she hissed. "She's got to be a demon of some sort. She could be leading us into a trap."

"I may not have known her as well as I believed," he said, trying to reassure Jenny, "but I can see the signs of what she is now. Elizabeth may not exactly be normal, but she's not demonic."

"That doesn't necessarily make her good."

"No it doesn't," he agreed. "She was a tutor of mine. The best teacher I had actually." He looked down to find Jenny watching him with surprise and disbelief. "She may be older than she looks and have a difficult time staying dead, but that doesn't preclude her being a good woman."

"Think she'll tell me where she gets her moisturizer?"

* * *

"Looks like you've done well for yourself," Giles commented as they turned up the walk.

"Having a very long life helps," she answered. It took her a few moments to find her key and unlock the front door. She entered quickly and stood back to allow Giles and Jenny to enter without actually inviting them in. "Not many of my kind are poor, we just have to live as if we were from time to time to blend in."

"Must be frustrating," Jenny grumbled as she took in the living space.

"More nostalgic really," Elizabeth commented. Her head disappeared below the wet bar for a moment, and she reappeared holding a bottle of scotch. "Kind of like getting back to your roots, you know," she continued, pouring them each a glass.

The house was large with hardwood floors, rich paint colors, high ceilings, and a decorative fireplace. It was sparsely furnished, with only a few chairs and a table or two in view around a large assortment of boxes.

"I'm only half moved," Elizabeth said as she brought tumblers to him and Jenny. "My husband had a few loose ends to tie up, and he'll be bringing the rest in a few days. I'm afraid most of the seating is in his truck."

"You've married?" Giles asked as they all found seats. He hoped his expression and tone remained bland but friendly as images of stolen moments and heated kisses flashed through his memory. He tossed down a mouthful. Ah, nothing like the burn of strong liquor to distract yourself from untoward thoughts.

Elizabeth shook her head as she swallowed the sip she'd taken. "I reconciled with my first husband."

"Been married often?" Jenny asked.

"A fair few times, Miss…" Elizabeth looked startled for a moment and blushed. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Jenny Calendar."

"Miss Calendar," Elizabeth repeated. "I'm a great deal older than my appearance would leave one to believe." She stared into the middle distance for a moment before downing the rest of her drink in one shot. "Unfortunately, I've outlived several husbands," she sighed.

"But not your first one?" Jenny asked. Giles grimaced at the accusatory tone.

"He's an immortal as well, isn't he?" he asked. These two could make his life miserable with very little effort, and he hoped steering the conversation back on topic would help dispel the tension growing between the two women.

"He is." Elizabeth stood and returned to the wet bar to refill her glass. "We were married before our awakenings, and a series of badly timed events had us each thinking the other had died until we were reintroduced by a mutual friend."

"You seem to have become accustomed to Sunnydale rather quickly." He knew his attempt to change the subject was clumsy and obvious, but he didn't care much at the moment.

"I did do my homework," she answered, rolling her eyes. "And, I've met a few vampires and demons in my day."

"Yet, you let yourself get drained and dumped in an alley," Jenny interjected, smirking over her glass.

"It's fun to see the confusion on their faces," Elizabeth answered with a shrug. "The older ones usually last long enough for me to come around, but alas, it's difficult to tell the fledglings from ones who've been around a decade or two."

"They always have that kind of reaction to your blood?" Jenny asked.

"The blood of an immortal is poisonous to vampires," Giles explained when Elizabeth simply nodded in answer. "We don't know exactly why."

Jenny blinked wide eyes twice before nodding. "Cool."

Giles swirled the amber liquor in his glass. "What brings you to Sunnydale?" he asked.

"I heard something ugly was heading your way, and I thought I could help," she answered.

Her voice was just a little too innocent, and it sent alarms off in his mind. Giles raised an eyebrow in question, letting a little of the suppressed rage Elizabeth knew of so well show through in his expression.

"Okay," she squirmed, obviously realizing he didn't believe her. "So that's not the only reason. Some of the watchers have begun hunting us, and we needed to disappear before we lost our heads."

"So your husband is erasing any trace of your passage and setting up new identities and documentation for you both," Giles guessed.

Elizabeth nodded. "And I've come along to begin setting up our new lives and…" She shifted uneasily. "Determine if you'd be an ally or enemy."


	3. Awkward Questions

Elizabeth watched with trepidation as Rupert's expression hardened. He'd grown into a handsome man with a stiff manner at odds with the angry youth she knew, yet a touch of his old temper was showing. She remembered the expression. She'd hurt him.

"An enemy?"

"People change, Rupert," she answered. "You should know this more than most."

"What would you have done if you thought Rupert was against you?" Jenny asked. The look in her dark eyes was hard.

"I would have called with the information," Elizabeth answered. "You needn't have known I was in town." She stood, feeling antsy under the dual glares, and made her way to the fireplace. "My husband and I would have gone to another watcher friend for the information we need."

"Who?" Rupert asked. "And who is your husband anyway?"

Elizabeth set her glass on the mantel before turning back to face her former pupil. His jaw was still tight, but his expression had softened. She wondered if he was thinking of how they'd parted ways. Did he remember when he felt he couldn't trust her?

"We would have asked Joe Dawson," she answered. "As for my husband, well, let's just call him Adam."

"Was…Adam…another immortal hidden in the watchers council?" Jenny asked.

"He was a researcher for a splinter group of theirs," she answered. "Where the council handles the training of slayers, he was part of a group who records the lives and deaths of immortals."

"It seems I remember a fellow named Adam," said Rupert. "He rang a few months back to request one of the Egyptian journals from the Ptolemy era." He paused, brows knitting together in concentration. "Pierson, I believe. Adam Pierson."

Rupert looked up then, and their eyes met. She knew what he was asking. The lie was in her mind begging to be released, but she couldn't bring herself to voice it. Seeing his eyes widen, she knew it was pointless now anyway. He'd guessed the truth behind her hesitation.

"Good lord!" He slumped back in his chair and removed his glasses, needlessly polishing them.

"He was tasked with researching Methos in an effort to find him," she said. "He found mention of a slayer and her watcher in one of the chronicles, and thought perhaps there had been some communication between the two, if I remember correctly."

"Fun as catching up has been," Jenny began, "maybe we should discuss the crisis heading our way?"

Rupert seemed to come to himself then, recovering his professional persona as he squared his shoulders and replaced his glasses. "Yes, quite," he agreed. "You had some information for us?"

"There are rumors out of Prague the youngest half of the Scourge of Europe are headed for the hellmouth."

"Scourge of Europe?" Rupert asked so quietly Elizabeth knew he was speaking to himself. He rose from his chair and paced across the room. The move was almost absent, as if he was moving toward something out of habit. She had the odd feeling he'd now be standing in front of a bookshelf if they were seated in his study instead of her empty home.

"That's what they were saying," she answered. "Mac found Darius' body that afternoon. I didn't have a chance to find more. I'm sorry."

"No," Rupert said. "No, it's quite alright. I'll research it tomorrow." He ran a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head. "Though I have a feeling I should recognize the name."

"I'll help," Jenny offered.

"You'll have my help as well," Elizabeth said.

Rupert and Jenny both considered her before Rupert nodded in acknowledgment. He thanked her for the warning and offer of help before asking about her cover.

"The papers Adam sent said Elise Andrews," she answered. She gathered the forgotten glasses and started toward the sink with them to give herself something to do. "He managed to hack into the school board's database and had me set up as the substitute for the French teacher." She returned to find her guests standing in preparation to leave.

"He didn't send word as to his identity yet. He just asked me to keep an eye out for openings a college student or recent graduate could obtain."


	4. Breakfast and Research

Giles shuffled down the stairs the next morning in a sleep fogged daze. He and Jenny left Elizabeth's barely a half hour after arriving there, but he'd stayed up far too late researching the Scourge of Europe. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was beginning to understand why the council insisted upon training the next generation almost from infancy. Not two years into his slayer's tenure he was already getting too old for late nights leading into early mornings. If he hadn't walked out so close to graduating the program, he'd have trained his potential and retired to an administrative role by now. Of course, he wouldn't have met Buffy either, so he supposed it was an even trade.

He scratched the back of his head and yawned wide enough to make his jaw crack as he made his way to the kitchenette to put the kettle on.

The search last night proved fruitless. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, having naught but a name to go on. It wasn't as if the diaries listed information in alphabetical order after all, but it still rankled.

The doorbell rang as he finished filling the tea kettle, and he called to his visitor as he set it on the stove. Jenny and Elizabeth were both supposed to come by this morning, but who would be by so early? He synched and tied his robe as he went to see who it was.

"I have breakfast," Elizabeth said, waving a large red and white McDonald's bag at him when he opened the door.

"Elizabeth," Giles stammered. He stepped aside for her to enter. "I wasn't expecting you so early."

"I've come too soon, haven't I?" She set the bag on his counter and turned to regard him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling when she checked her watch and let out a surprised squeak.

"Oh I have!" she exclaimed. "It's only six thirty? I could have sworn it was nine." She shook her wrist, tapped the watch face, and brought it up to her ear. Apparently deciding it hadn't stopped working, she turned her attention back to him. The flush spread throughout her face and down her neck.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "My internal clock's been a little off even after being here for a few days what with calling Me…husband at odd hours of the morning and evening." She gestured toward the greasy bag. "I can come back later."

Giles noticed the grammatical slip followed by an almost imperceptible pause. Elizabeth was a languages coach. Even when flustered, it wasn't like her to make such an obvious slip. He wondered if perhaps she hadn't said "me." She was referencing her husband, and he suspected Adam wasn't the man's true name. He'd have to look into it, although he doubted he could find the answer without drawing attention to her presence in Sunnydale.

"No," he answered before the pause dragged on too long. "It's quite alright, I assure you." He walked past her and turned the heat on under the nearly forgotten kettle. "I was just starting some tea when you came to the door." Feeling a draft from the vents as the air conditioning kicked on, he remembered his current state of undress and felt a flush heat his skin even as he pulled his robe tighter. "I was actually expecting Buffy to be along soon to let me know how her evening patrol went."

"If you'll point me toward the cups and plates, I can get us all set up here while you go dress," Elizabeth offered. The corners of her mouth were tipped up in a fond type of smile, and Giles absently told her which cabinets as his mind drifted back to a similar morning years ago.

_He clutched the box of pastries as he waited to see if she'd answer her door. He made a fool of himself yesterday. She'd only been offering a sympathetic ear because he'd been distracted during his lesson, and he'd practically assaulted her._

_The knob turned and he looked up to find his language tutor peering at him through a small crack between the door and its frame. Her body was hidden behind the door, but he could see her hair was wrapped up in a fluffy blue towel._

"_It's awfully early, Mr. Giles," she said. She sounded tired, and it looked like she'd just gotten out of the shower. He didn't see much hope of making a successful apology any more. "And I don't have you down for an extra session today. I do try to keep my weekends free for my own studies."_

"_I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday," he answered. "I'm sorry. You were merely trying to help me sort through a problem so I could focus on my studies, and I acted completely inappropriately." He held up the box of pastries. "I know it won't make up for my actions, but I thought perhaps you'd enjoy some of the sticky buns Mr. Anderson makes down at the bakery. Mum loves them."_

_Miss Vollette opened the door for him, and he stepped inside. It wasn't until she closed the door he noticed she was clothed in a rather short bathrobe. Her legs were exposed up to mid-thigh, and he floundered for an image unattractive enough to prevent an embarrassing reaction._

"_I was just about to put the kettle on," she said. "I've a study group coming over in an hour, but I have a bit of time until then." She walked over to the tiny kitchenette, and he heard a hiss from the sink as she filled the kettle. "We need to have a discussion about yesterday I think."_

"_If you point me toward the cups and plates, I can set us up while you dress."_

Elizabeth had breakfast set out when he came back downstairs. It was an odd mirror of that morning in his youth, though now it was he who appeared the elder of the two. She grinned as she saw him approach, and he was struck by the odd sensation she still saw him as the boy he was thirty years ago.

"I spoke with Adam this morning," she said as she handed him a steaming cup. "It's why I came so early actually. He finally remembered where he'd heard the term Scourge of Europe."

Giles sipped at his tea as they settled at the counter to eat. She'd remembered how he took his tea. He wondered at the meaning of her remembering for so long for a moment before he was reminded of the acute memories immortals had naturally.

"He was traveling with Byron and the Shelly's and put it down as a new story Mary was working on at the time," Elizabeth continued oblivious to his musings. "He hadn't thought on much of what occurred between them all for years, actively tried to suppress much of it in fact, and it took a while to encourage the memory forward."

He bit into one of the sandwiches and grimaced. He rarely ate more than fruit and toast for breakfast, but he didn't want to offend his guest. When the implications of what she'd just said sunk in, he nearly choked on the food.

"Mary Shelly?" he sputtered.

Elizabeth nodded as she drank her tea. "Byron roped him into traveling with them as a physician for Mary and her sister." She shrugged. "He doesn't talk about it much."

"Well, it does give us a time frame at least," Giles answered. "Did she give any details?"

"What he remembered of the text was vague." She paused to take a bite of her sweet roll. "He said it was about a couple, a blond noblewoman and her 'angelically' handsome lover, who were particularly bloodthirsty." Elizabeth curved her fingers in the way the children referred to as "air quotes" when describing the male and rolled her eyes.

Giles felt as if his heart stopped as a cold chill crept down his spine. Only force of will and a bit of luck kept him from dropping his cup. It couldn't be.

Someone knocked at the door.

"That must be Buffy," he said as he set his cup down and rose to go answer it. Buffy was bouncing on the balls of her feet when he opened his door.

"Morning Giles," she said.

"Are you feeling well?" he asked as he stepped aside for her to enter.

"Yeah," Buffy answered. "Mom made crepes this morning. I'm kinda buzzed on the sugar and, you know, caffeine, but otherwise I'm peachy with a side of keen."

Elizabeth snorted, and Buffy's attention was drawn to the kitchen. Giles caught surprise and wariness in Buffy's expression before she covered it with a bad attempt at feigning embarrassment.

"Sorry, Mr. Giles," she said. "I didn't realize you had company. My question can wait for tomorrow."

"It's okay, Buffy," he answered. What did Elizabeth say her cover's name was last night? Oh yes. "Mrs. Andrews is a watcher."

"Really?" She sounded shocked. "I thought you were all tweed lovin' old guys," she told Elizabeth. He gaped and felt his cheeks grow warm, and the feeling intensified as Elizabeth chuckled.

"Rupert's hardly old, but I have been known to wear tweed now and again." She stood and walked over to offer Buffy her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Summers."

"Just Buffy," she replied as she shook Elizabeth's hand. "Miss Summers makes me feel old."

"Then please, call me Elise."

"How was your patrol, Buffy?" Giles asked.

"Oh, totally quiet," she answered. "I think the grave robbage spooked our local vamps. I just saw the one fledgling, and he was dust in the wind before I broke a sweat." She began her usual set of warm up stretches as she spoke, and it was only then Giles noticed she was dressed for a workout. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go jogging if I can't get a decent workout with the slayage, or those crepes are so gonna go to my hips!"

"If you see Angel tonight, please tell him I need a word," Giles said before opening the door for Buffy again.

"Something up?" Buffy asked.

"Just a bit of research," he answered. "Nothing to worry about just yet."

"Sure, see you tomorrow Giles," she said, waving over her shoulder as she jogged away. "Bye Mrs. Andrews."

"Have a good run, Buffy." Elizabeth smiled as they watched the slayer bound down the sidewalk. "Ah the joy of youth!"

"It's such a shame it's rarely noticed until one is old," he agreed.


	5. Age is Relative: Take 1

Elizabeth decided to let the old comment drop for now. She learned long ago self-perceptions rarely changed based on logic. They returned to their breakfasts in silence.

"So, who's Angel," she asked when the quiet started to become oppressive.

"He's an associate of ours," Rupert answered. "A vampire cursed with his soul by a band of gypsies a century or so back."

"Oh yes, I remember now." She giggled at the memory of Travers in one of his snits regarding Buffy last year. "Your slayer's certainly been bad for Quentin's blood pressure."

Rupert grinned.

"Do you think we could set Buffy and Angel up?" she added. "Might give old Quentie enough of a coronary to get the wanker out of our hair."

Rupert laughed outright then. Unfortunately he'd been in the midst of chewing, and he began coughing and sputtering violently. Elizabeth clapped him on the back and poured him another cup of tea.

"You're evil," he groused.

"Nope," she answered. "Just old and cranky." A dark look flashed in Rupert's eyes before he dropped his gaze. She wondered what she said to upset him and decided to get back on subject.

"Do you think Angel can help?" she asked.

"He's about the right age," Rupert answered. "It can't hurt to ask." She shrugged and nodded. "So you never heard of this scourge?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I was in the Americas at the time," she answered. "I came over in the mid 1700s and stayed until the first whisperings of the civil war started up. Spent a few decades in Asia before returning to Europe."

"How long have you been around anyway?" Rupert asked.

She knew she should be offended, being a lady brought to task about her age and all, but there was something in his voice just now. She couldn't place it exactly.

"I'm rather old," she admitted, "even for an immortal. Otherwise, the watchers likely would have just killed me rather than bought my silence when I discovered them. I knew enough first hand to be useful."

"So that's why you worked for them?" Rupert asked. He pushed his plate away and stood. "They were paying for your silence. From whom?"

"They were afraid I'd tell other immortals about them," she answered. "Can you imagine the reaction some others would have if they discovered their every move was watched? It'd be war."

"Why didn't they have you working for them directly?" he asked. "You would have been a virtual treasure trove of information on other immortals."

"Would you trust Angel with all the council's resources?"

He turned his back on her and scrubbed the back of his neck so hard it whitened his knuckles. She was setting her cup down to go and turn him around when he finally answered.

"No."

"Instead I taught young watchers training for both branches a variety of ancient languages," she answered. She stepped closer to him, but she didn't reach for him. "Droves of young watchers, including you, learned languages from a teacher who lived through eras when they were spoken, and I was able to live a settled life for longer than I'd been able for centuries."

Rupert's shoulders finally relaxed, and she began clearing the remnants of their meal way. For the second time this morning, she was reminded of another shared breakfast.

_He'd shown up at her door looking like a kicked puppy and clutching a box of sticky buns just as she was getting out of the shower. Rupert was a tenderhearted boy struggling to live up to his father's demands and just beginning to dare dreaming of a future outside the watcher's council. He seemed so lost and confused; she found it impossible to turn him away, so she let him come in. _

_She set the kettle on the stove to steep, and he offered to plate up breakfast while she dressed. She thanked him for his thoughtfulness and went to find something to wear. Following yesterday's indiscretions, trotting about in nothing but a flimsy robe was awkward as well as completely unprofessional._

_She pulled on underwear, jeans, and a sweater. Then she combed through her hair and went back out to find Rupert sitting at her table with two cups of tea._

"_Thank you, Mr. Giles," she said as she sat and cradled the teacup he offered. The warmth of the cup helped settle her nerves, and she took a tentative sip before she spoke again. "I'm not angry with you, you know."_

"_You're not?" he asked. His expression was so open. His tone was hopeful._

"_No," she answered. How could she word this so he wouldn't be ashamed but not be encouraged to repeat the action? "I understand. You needed comfort."_

_Rupert blushed and seemed to suddenly find his tea fascinating. Perhaps comfort wasn't the correct word to use. Now that she thought about it, it might make a teenage boy think of a young child asking their mother to kiss away bruises. She wanted to encourage him to keep that sweet part of himself and not squash it on his way to becoming his father's ideal of a man._

"_It seems you could use a friend," she began again. "If you need to talk, I'm here to listen." She crooked her finger under his chin and lifted it enough to make eye contact. "Though I'm not looking for a beau right now," she said, grinning to soften her words. "Between work and classes, I don't have time for dating."_

_Technically speaking, what she just said wasn't true. She did work full-time for the council, but she wasn't a student. The classes and study groups were nothing more than a ruse for her cover, and as long as she was working for the council, she had to keep up appearances._

"_Aren't you lonely?" Rupert asked. "Living here alone, spending all your time either working or studying?"_

_She laughed. "When you say it like that, I do sound like an awful stick in the mud, don't I?" Rupert blushed and took a deep drink of his tea. "It's not so bad most of the time. I have my students and classmates, and old friends come round to visit now and again."_

"_What about family?"_

_She shook her head. "I was a foundling," she explained. "My friends _are_ my family."_

_Rupert picked at one of the buns, pulling off the chopped walnuts and setting them to the side. "Sometimes I think I'd rather have more friends and less family," he said quietly before popping the bun into his mouth whole."_

"_Well, you're always welcome here, Mr. Giles," Elizabeth answered and patted his hand before rising to wash her cup and plate._

"_Rupert."_

_She found herself staring at the wall blankly for a moment before she recovered to say, "Pardon?"_

"_If we're to be friends, shouldn't you call me Rupert instead of Mr. Giles?" he asked._

_She carefully dried the dishes and packed them away before turning to face him. Leaning against the counter, she regarded the young man still sitting at her kitchen table. He was nearly grown by mortal standards. She knew the birthdays and ages of all her students, believing it important to mark their birthdays in some small way at the start of the lesson that day, and she knew he'd be eighteen in a matter of weeks. Yet he had an innocence about him that made him seem so young. He watched her now with wide, hopeful eyes and his whole body tensed for rejection._

"_You're right, Rupert," she agreed. "Though I must continue to call you Mr. Giles during our lessons, I'll endeavor to call you Rupert when we speak as friends."_

_A slow smile spread across his face then, and his shoulders relaxed as she added, "Call me Elizabeth."_

"You're right," Rupert said finally. "They turned a bad situation into the most profitable course for the council, and I can't blame you for wanting to settle down for a bit." He smiled then, chuckling as he looked her over. "I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose your appearance must have made it difficult to stay anywhere more than a few years."

"Not all of us are blessed to be awakened at an age where rapid changes aren't expected like either McLeod, or Cassandra for that matter," she agreed. "Adam and I have both bounced around like tumbleweeds for centuries."

They moved together to wash and pack away the dishes.

"Speaking of Adam," he said. "When should we expect him?"

"He's just been waiting on my assessment of the situation here in Sunnydale," she answered. "He's finalizing a few last things, and he'll kill off the Adam Pierson persona sometime this evening before heading out. His travel time will depend on any colleagues who may come to investigate or random meetings with other immortals."

"I have a few diaries from the nineteenth century in the living room," said Rupert as they finished with the dishes and went back out to his sitting area. "I didn't find anything pertinent last night, but I was scanning for 'Scourge of Europe' specifically. There may be something I missed."

Rupert was dozing on the couch, watcher diary open on his lap and glasses askew, when Jenny arrived an hour later. She hadn't seemed happy, but she became less snappish as Elizabeth explained her earlier excited confusion and brought Rupert's current lady friend a cup of coffee. She settled back into the chair she'd been reading in while Jenny curled up next to Rupert on the sofa. Both decided to let him sleep for an hour or so before waking him.

The three searched throughout the afternoon, but were unable to find any references to the Scourge of Europe or two vampires matching the description Adam had given. They finally decided to give up the search for the day, Rupert promising to speak with Angel at the first opportunity, and take up the search again through the journals Rupert kept at the library.


	6. Scourge of Europe

Giles tucked a stake and a flask of holy water into the sheathes in his jacket lining. Buffy called after her run to inform him Angel would meet him at the library just after sunset. He checked his pockets one last time and set out.

He began researching Angel's past when Buffy discovered his vampirism. He hadn't found much thus far, mostly an accounting of his earliest days under the tutelage of his sire, Darla. Neither Buffy nor Angel knew of his private research into the matter. This suited him well, though revealing select bits of his knowledge at an opportune moment might give him the upper hand he needed when dealing with the vampire.

He planned to arrive early enough to find the pertinent journal and mark the pages he needed before Angel arrived, which is why he begged off researching earlier claiming fatigue he didn't really feel. Both women likely knew he was lying, but it didn't matter. They'd left. He'd allowed Buffy's association with the vampire, thus it fell to him to deal with the matter should his judgment prove to have been in error.

Giles found the journal, marked it, and set it aside almost immediately. That done, he decided to straighten his office and the stacks in preparation for tomorrow. With the weekend over, research would move back to the library, and they'd left the room in disarray in their rush to free Cordelia.

"You needed to see me?"

Giles jumped, and his heart began to pound. He swore Angel enjoyed sneaking up on people to see them startle. Maybe he got a vicarious thrill out of hearing the hearts of mortals around him racing. He retrieved the journal on his way out of his office and placed it on the counter.

"Yes," he began. "An associate of mine called the other day. She'd overheard some in the council talking about rumors regarding the younger half of something called the 'Scourge of Europe' coming to Sunnydale. Unfortunately she was unable to obtain any more information at the time. I was wondering if you'd heard of it."

Angel looked even paler if it was possible. He shrugged and scrubbed at the back of his neck.

"It doesn't ring any bells," he answered.

"Really?" Giles slid the journal off the counter and opened it to an etching of Angelous and Darla. "Because she discovered a reference to them in an unpublished manuscript, and the description matches you and your sire quite well." He handed the journal over to Angel.

"Oh," Angel said. His eyes widened as he took in the etchings and details written in the journal. "Is that how they referred to us?"

"It would seem." Giles answered. "So, were the watchers referring to you, or should we expect some old friends of yours?"

Angel sighed. Giles never ceased to be amazed that although vampires didn't breathe, they mimicked the action to emote or fool their prey into believing them to be human.

"Two vampires," he finally answered. "Drusilla and her childe. He's gone by both William the Bloody and Spike." Angel slid the journal back onto the counter. "You said they're coming here?"

"According to an overheard conversation," Giles said.

"How long?"

"Unknown." Giles retrieved the journal. "My associate was on her way out of the country and was unable to uncover anything beyond the snippet she overheard." He leaned against the door jab to his office and crossed his arms, keeping the journal in view. "Want to fill me in on what we should expect?"

"Spike's vicious. Killed a slayer during the Boxer Rebellion and had a fondness for railroad spikes," Angel answered. He drug his fingers through his hair and began to pace. "Dru's a seer." He paced back toward Giles. "She's also insane, unpredictable, and not so easy to understand, but Spike is pretty fluent in crazy ramble."

Angel paused in his pacing and shrugged. "I haven't exactly heard much from or about them since I got my soul back."

"I see." Giles polished his glasses as he struggled to force his heart to slow back to a normal rhythm. Good Lord, they had a slayer killer heading for them, and not a month after Buffy finally received what little closure she had after her momentary death at the master's hand. "I suppose we have some preparing to do then."

"I'll see if my contacts have heard anything."

"Thank you, Angel," Giles said only to notice the vampire was already gone when he replaced his glasses. He glanced at the clock. Buffy would be finishing off what was left of her homework before heading out on patrol. He decided to let them have their Sunday evening undisturbed and walked back into the stacks, looking for references to Drusilla and William the Bloody.


	7. Skirting the Issue

Buffy grumbled to herself as she made her way through the crowded halls. She hated Mondays. Why did they get two whole days to do whatever and then get slammed back into one stupid routine or another? Why'd she need school anyway? It wasn't like there was a job out there with her name on it while she was bizarro girl, she who stalks the night and spends **way** too much time in cemeteries. Well, at least she had her friends to make high school less of a hell dimension of its own. Where were they this morning anyway?

The library seemed the logical place to start looking. With all the time they spent there, you'd think they read for fun! She came to the library doors and pushed them open. Willow and Xander weren't there, but Giles was talking with the watcher she'd seen at his house yesterday. Look at him getting his Kirk on.

Woah, way too much time listening to Xander's Star Trek rants.

"Hiya Giles," Buffy said as she walked over. "Morning, Elise."

"Good morning, Buffy." Giles answered as Elise waved.

"So what's the what?" Buffy asked. "Is this business trip, or do you have a serious warped sense of what makes a good vacation spot?"

"Neither," Elise answered with a laugh. "My husband and I are moving here."

"I know I'm not so good at playing by the rules, but do they really think I need two watchers?"

"While Mrs. Andrews has brought us some important information from the council," Giles answered as he closed the book he was holding and walked into his office. "Mr. and Mrs. Andrews' move is unconnected to council business." He laid the book on his desk and came back out to the counter.

She knew Giles was trying to be reassuring. He was using his "there, there" voice. She didn't trust that voice.

"So are you semiretired or something?" she asked. "Cause I didn't think the council let you watchery types wonder off without a slayer or potential to, you know, watch."

"Slayers and potentials aren't the only metahumans the council keeps tabs on," Elise answered. She pushed away from the counter and gestured for Buffy to take a seat.

_Why not?_ Buffy thought and plopped down in one of the chairs.

"A meta what now?"

Elise sat. "Metahuman: more than human. Like being a slayer doesn't make you inhuman, but you're not exactly a regular old plain jane."

"Okay, gotcha." Well, kinda, maybe, sort of.

"They have a splinter group that doesn't actively concern itself with slayers and demons," Elise said. "They're more like historians, and others help teach young men and women to become the type of watchers you've come to know. My husband works for the splinter group, and I've done a little work for both."

"So you're here because of this splinter group?" Buffy asked.

"Yes."

"Are these other guys dangerous?" she asked. "I'm not gonna have to slay any of them am I?"

"No," Giles answered.

"Like any other groups of humans, some are good, some not so much," Elise explained. "They're a self-policing group."

"I think I like your group better," said Buffy, suddenly feeling much better. "None of this, 'You'll do what we said because we ordered you,' crap I keep gettin' from his bunch." She glanced over at Giles to find him giving her a halfhearted glare. She grinned back.

"So I'm guessing one of 'em's moved to town."

"Two actually," Giles answered. Elise's jaw clenched, and Buffy glanced over to see Giles smirking. What was that about?

"Wow, so what should I expect if I run into one, so I don't make with the slayage on accident," she asked. "Cause that would be totally embarrassing."

"Ooh, what's embarrassing, Bufster?"

She turned to see Xander and Willow just inside the doors. She'd been so distracted by Giles and Elise, she didn't notice them enter. _Mondays._

"Accidental smack down."

"Ouch," Xander answered the same time Willow said, "Yikes."

"They're Immortals," Elise answered.

"Oh, yeah. That clears it up. I mean how many never aging creatures can there be?" Xander snarked.

"And who's she?" Willow asked.

"I beg your pardon," Elise answered and stood, extending her hand to the other teens. "My name is Elise Andrews, a new resident watcher. You must be Xander and Willow."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Andrews," Willow answered as she shook Elise's hand.

"Likewise." Elise shook Xander's hand as well, pointedly ignoring the way he was pretty much drooling all over himself. "As I was explaining, my husband and I are here with a council splinter group to watch and record the actions of a couple Immortals, not immortal demons, but humans who have a … difficult time staying dead."

Buffy's breathing sped up, and the room started spinning. No! No. No. No. No. No.

"After your…incident…with the master last year, Buffy, there was some concern you might be an Immortal yourself."

She didn't know how it was possible, but the room started spinning faster. Her heart was pounding so hard, it was difficult to hear anything but its beating. Elise laid her hand over Buffy's just as everything was starting to go black. It wasn't much, but it was enough to pull her back from passing out.

"But I can tell you now, you're not," Elise said gently. _Oh thank God!_ "You're not even a potential."

"How do you know?" Buffy asked.

"There are ways of checking," Elise answered. The bell rang. "And on that note, it's time for class."

"Let's meet here after school, please children," Giles called from the stacks. "Mrs. Andrews here has brought us some information we need to research." Buffy shared a groan and put upon look with Xander before they rolled their eyes at Willow's excitement. She sure did love her research.

"Mrs. Andrews, a word with you please," Buffy heard before the library doors closed.

* * *

"What is it, Rupert?" Elise asked though she suspected she already knew the answer. She kept her back to him, unable to meet his eyes as she waited for the inevitable.

"You have to tell them."

She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and sighed. "Why?"

"Even with your new identities, it's only a matter of time until either you or Adam is challenged," he reasoned, his voice slow and soft. "Buffy and the others will find out one way or another. If they find you or him in the middle of a quickening, they'll become suspicious of your motives."

"They will, or you will, Rupert?" She turned toward him then and regarded him with sadness.

"I'll admit to anger when I found you hadn't trusted me enough to tell me back then, but I understand why," he answered. "I know these children, Lizzie. They don't take being lied to well."

Her heart clinched hearing the old endearment. Odd how reconnecting with an old flame could hurt as much thirty years later as it did the day the relationship ended.

"And I suppose they know all about Eyghon?"

Elise immediately regretted the barb when she saw Rupert's stricken expression. She might as well have slapped him.

"I'll think about it."


End file.
